


Keep Smiling Through

by Whimsy12



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Character Development, F/M, Family, Fluff, No Plot/Plotless, Romance, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whimsy12/pseuds/Whimsy12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starts at the end of 3x8. My version of what may have happened after Phryne left for England.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ritz

**Author's Note:**

> Second time back for the fandom - couldn't resist after that finale! The piece is unbetaed and written over the course of several evening commutes, so please excuse any grammatical errors I may have overlooked. There may also be a few historical inaccuracies. 
> 
> I was toying with the idea of having Jack "come after Phryne," but learn more about her as a person and her history from her closest friends and family before actually getting to see her. That way, Jack would truly understand the woman he has fallen in love with, her past and all.
> 
> The song that shows up at the beginning of the piece and is the inspiration for the title is Vera Lynn's "We'll Meet Again." Thought the lyrics were very appropriate for the season 3 finale. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cHcunREYzNY

When Jack stepped into the gilded foyer of the Ritz, he had the fleeting notion that he had stepped into another world in a different time. Sumptuous red carpets covered the floors, where gold thread looped around intricate patterns and the Ritz crest. Two marble staircases wound along the sides of the hall, eventually meeting in front of a large, tall window that stood proudly at the center of the foyer. The guests meandered down the halls in glittering jewels, large brim hats, shining pocket watches, and perfectly polished shoes.

Jack cleared his throat in discomfort, reflecting on his own scuffed brown oxfords and casual overcoat. Indulging in a moment of self-pity, he missed the overeager bell boy who had practically hopped over to him in his enthusiasm. Jack swore under his breath as he narrowly avoided collision. A snobby looking man behind the front desk looked up from rearranging the already straightened guest book, only to give a haughty sniff and look away.

“Sir?” The bell boy asked. Jack realized that the young man had probably been peering up at him for quite some time. 

“Er – No, no thank you,” replied Jack. The glint off the chandeliers momentarily blindsided him as he turned quickly to look around. A distant tune was playing in one of the ballrooms. He did not notice a particularly attractive woman give him an appraising look and an appreciatively raised eyebrow as he passed.

The music was coming from a sumptuous ballroom, where the crème-de-la-crème of London society stood making small talk, champagne flutes in hand. A crooning female voice sang: 

_We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when_ _But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day_

_Keep smiling through, just like you always do_ _Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away_

Jack walked cautiously inside the ballroom and stood closely to the back wall, hat in hand. He unconsciously raked a hand through his hair, loosening a few strands from the pomade he had hastily applied after his long ship ride.

_So will you please say hello, to the folks that I know_ _Tell them that I won’t be long_ _They’ll be happy to know, that as you saw me go_ _I was singing this song_

It was madness, really, for him to have come here. He had pictured those fleeting moments at the airfield before Phryne’s departure so many times, he no longer knew which details he had imagined and which had been real. All he knew was that when the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher told a man to come after her, only a fool would not. _  
_

_We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when_ _But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day_

The woman on stage finished her song with a dazzling smile, as the audience clapped politely. Jack scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar raven bob. His heart sank when he didn’t see her. _Maybe she wasn’t here?_ Jack frowned, heading back to the front desk.

Seven weeks ago, Jack has swallowed his pride and called upon Mrs. Prudence Stanley to ask whether she knew where Phryne’s final destination would be. The Collins had already departed for their honeymoon, and Mr. Butler had left to visit his niece.

To his surprise, Mrs. Stanley had neither chastised him nor given him her signature disapproving frown. Instead, as if she had been awaiting his arrival, Mrs. Stanley had written down the address of the Ritz and handed it to him without a word. If he had not been so shocked, Jack would’ve sworn that Mrs. Stanley had nearly _smiled_ at his retreating figure.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a Miss Phryne Fisher,” Jack addressed the mustache behind the front desk. The man’s slight sneer froze midway when he caught the name.

“The _Honorable_ Miss Phryne Fisher, sir?” the man asked.

Jack couldn’t help the slight smirk that graced his features. “The one and the same. Is she still a guest here? I was told by her aunt that she would likely stay at the Ritz upon her return to England.”

The man behind the counter seemed slightly discomforted. “Well, yes and no sir.” Upon seeing Jack’s puzzled expression, he hurried on. “You see sir, her rooms are still being maintained for her return, but the lady has not returned for several days. Although –“ he broke off to to give Jack a once-over before continuing hesitantly. “The lady did mention she was expecting her --er--  _cousin_ to join her at some point, sir. And to show him up to her rooms until she returned from urgent family business.” The man looked pointedly at Jack, making it abundantly clear that he didn't believe for a moment that Jack was Phryne's "cousin."

A younger Jack would have probably blushed, but 3 years with Miss Fisher had made him practically brazen. Jack cracked a roguish grin. Nobody knew him in England. He had long forgone his honor and his reputation at City South, months before. What did he have to lose?

“I’ll take the key to her room then, thank you.”

Jack picked up the tattered suitcase he had temporarily forgotten on the floor.

“And one more thing – I’d greatly appreciate it if you didn’t tell Miss Fisher I have arrived. I would like to keep it a surprise.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and followed the bell boy up the stairs.

 _I’ve come after you Miss Fisher, now you better come after me_ , thought Jack.

 ********

Phryne made a noise of frustration and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Father, for the last time, we can’t touch any of our remaining inheritance until your delightful cousin is convicted! Our assets are frozen until then – we technically aren’t even titled until Eugene is officially deemed guilty.”

Henry Fisher poured himself another generous glass of cognac as he responded. “And I’ve told _you_ my dear that I don’t give a damn! We are aristocracy, whether you like it or not.” The Baron looked up from his glass and looked levelly at his daughter. “And from your lifestyle, I know for a fact that you very much like your title. So if I were you, I’d sit tight and not say a word during this entire ordeal.”

Phryne glared back at her father. How she thought that this trip to England would be anything but painful was beyond her. She had let a momentary lapse in sentiment cloud her judgment. Maybe she thought that arranging a romantic reunion for her parents would serve as an appropriate outlet for her sudden and unexpected desire for her own _romance._ She liked to think that her decision has been purely out of love for her mother, if not her infuriating father.

 _Bah._ Phryne cringed at the thought of how sappy it all sounded. She hadn’t truly believed that Jack, as handsome and kind as he was, would ever forsake his duty to chase after her halfway across the world. Besides, while she knew very little about Jack’s personal affairs, she doubted he would have the means to travel so far, or afford to leave his job for that long.

She sighed, touching the swallow brooch still pinned to her frock. Not once since her departure had she taken it off. At night, she would add it back to her jewelry box, carefully placing it next to the Buffalo Bill pin Jack had given her. All week, she had drifted off to sleep envisioning a young Jack riding his bike down the roads of Richmond, wielding his badge against pretend foes and criminals.

 _Speaking of criminals…_ “Father, I cannot stand idly by while you break the _law._ Unless you wish to end up right next to your cousin, I would suggest you toe the line very, _very_ carefully.”

“Yes, I’m sure your _Inspector_ wouldn’t want to get himself into a family scandal now, would he?”

Phryne looked back at her father, startled. Not once had the Baron mentioned the kiss he had witnessed at the airfield, nor had he brought up Jack’s name since their departure. To bring him in and echo the very same words she had used upon his introduction to Jack seemed almost mocking.

 _Did he know?_ Phryne felt suddenly vulnerable, as she inevitably did around her father. It had been weeks since she had last heard from Jack, and it had been a sore spot for her. It was silly really, that she, the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher, lady detective and invincible spirit, would be so let down by a lack of telegrams? It seemed almost comical.

Yet…even in Dot’s latest missive, there was no news of Jack, despite Phryne’s explicit question asking how he was. This seemed highly suspicious, a fact she had overlooked in her efforts to restrain her father from breaking the law once again.

 _Had she been tentative in her declaration? Surely Jack knew her well enough by now to understand that she had practically laid her heart out on a platter for him._ For the millionth time, Phryne’s imagination conjured up the unbidden image of Jack untying Angela Lombard’s dress, as she smiled seductively up at him. Phryne had never asked about that moment, but time and time again, she had found herself uncharacteristically fixating on what could have happened. It was almost as if her position with Jack had switched, so that it was now her that was the possessive, jealous one – a role she had embarrassingly played since the moment she had found out about Concetta. Or was it when Rosie had so unceremoniously reentered Jack’s life? She could no longer remember.

Phryne turned her attention back to her father, who was checking his pocket watch.

“Well, it’s almost time for your mother to be home, and seeing as I am still on rather shaky grounds with her, we shall postpone this discussion for another time. It seems, for now, you have won the battle my dear,” Henry said in a faux-charming tone.

Phryne barely saw him leave the drawing room. She stood up to walk toward the phone, dialing the number to the Ritz for the second time that day to inquire about any messages she may have received.


	2. Elizabeth MacMillan

Jack felt like a new man by the time he had bathed and clothed himself in Phryne’s excessively large hotel room. He had no idea when she was expected to return, and had no desire to question the hotel staff every other hour to see if Phryne had called.

He stretched his sore limbs and brusquely swiveled left to right, hearing his spine crack.

It had been three days since his arrival at the Ritz, and his days had been dishearteningly quiet. While he had stepped on the boat to England with no real expectations and a heart full of trepidation, he had also not been planning on an extended wait. Had Phryne called? She must have expected him if she had mentioned a cousin to the concierge…

Jack heard a crisp knock on his door. His heart leapt, wondering if it was finally the moment of reunion, when his detective instincts kicked in. Phryne wouldn’t feel the need to knock on her own door, even if Jack were there. He slipped on a robe and pulled open the door.

 He wasn’t sure who he had expected to see, but it was definitely not the person who stood gaping at him.

 “Er—Dr. MacMillan, please, do come in,” Jack said, recovering quickly. He stood aside to let the doctor in. She merely stood on the spot, staring at him. A few seconds later, she straightened her back and strode into the room.

 “Inspector, I hope I haven’t woken you. Phryne mentioned she was staying at the Ritz before she left, but she never told me she’d have a guest. Then again, it’s not entirely surprising, mind you.”

 “Ah, well, Phryne doesn’t actually know I’m here yet,” Jack replied nervously, clearing his throat.

 Mac raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she tossed her hat onto the nearest ottoman.

 “God, I feel bloody awful. That ship ride was nothing close to comfortable.” She groaned as she sank into the nearest settee and closed her eyes. “So, tell me about this surprise ambush we’re both going to jump on Phryne when she does get here,” Mac continued, her eyes still closed.

 Jack stared at her. “You mean to say Phryne doesn’t know you’re coming?”

 “That is, generally, how surprises work, Inspector,” Mac drawled.

“I’m not exactly sure what I was planning on doing when she showed up,” Jack answered honestly. He took a seat opposite Mac on a straight-backed armchair.

Mac sighed audibly before pulling out a cigarette case and lighting a gasper. Jack thought he heard her mutter “Men!” under her breath, but wasn’t sure.

“Well you’re obviously besotted with Phryne, so out with it. What were you planning on achieving by flying halfway across the world? You know how our Phyrne is.”

Jack thought he heard a bit of possessiveness creep into Mac’s tone. He looked at Mac in the eyes and thought for a second before he replied.

“I know, Dr. MacMillan. I didn’t come all this way to try to tie her down or make her feel guilty for the person she is. I just wanted her to know once and for all that I am hers, whether or not she wants it.” He paused, and continued with a small grin. “After all, she did tell me to come after her before she left.”

Mac’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.

“Did she ever talk to you? About, well, us.” Jack felt incredibly stupid the moment he uttered the question, feeling like an adolescent school boy asking about a first crush.

Mac grinned, obviously thinking the same. “Well, I didn’t know there was an _us_ to talk to her about, my dear Inspector,” she replied.

Jack almost rolled his eyes, but smiled at her good humouredly.

She continued. “Well, no, not really. You have to understand Inspector, I’ve known Phryne since the war. She doesn’t need to tell me anything for me to know that she’s just as besotted with you as you are with her. Whether or not she knows this though, is still questionable.” She took another smoke as Jack looked down at his hands thoughtfully. 

He wanted to know more about Phryne, but instead asked, “How did you two meet?”

Mac looked at him Jack curiously. “Phryne saved my life. Did she never tell you that?”

Jack shook his head. “No, no she didn’t. She never talks much of the war. Or anything in her past, really.”

“Not surprising. While she tries damn hard to hide it, Phryne has always been haunted by her past.” Mac looked up at Jack and said seriously. “You of all people would know that.”

Jack nodded.

Mac continued. “The Australian army didn’t see the need for female medical officers. So I also joined the war in a women’s ambulance. Half the women had no medical training, so I mentored many of them along the way. Phryne was by far the quickest to learn. We struck up an easy friendship and often talked through the night.” Mac trailed off, looking pensive. Jack too remembered the long nights when he would stay up with his fellow enlistees, speaking of home and of the world—anything to drown out the sound of suffering and death.

"Anyway, one night, I was found in a relatively compromising position with another nurse.” Mac looked at Jack defiantly before continuing, “I had very little time before the commanding officer would come to verify the rumors. I could either flee or be detained for sodomy. I thought I was in love, and vowed to stay.” Mac took another deep drag.

 “When Phryne found out that I was standing my ground, she came bursting into my tent in a rage. She said that nothing was worth being imprisoned for, not even _true love._ “ Mac laughed. “Even then, Phryne was not a fan of romanticism. Halfway through her tirade, the commanding officer stepped in, selectively overhearing the part about sodomy and true love, and assumed the worst. He had me arrested and sent to a makeshift goal, until I would presumably be sent to my death.”

Mac shivered a little, remembering the goal. “We may have been fighting a war for humanity, Inspector, but humanity had forsaken me that day.” Mac did not go into detail, but Jack could not help but feel a cold spread in his stomach. “On the third night, I was released without a word, but told I had been discharged from service. It was only after I was dropped off in Paris that I heard Phryne had been fighting tooth and nail for my release, but I do not know what she sacrificed for me to this day. All I know is that I owe her my life, and I am eternally grateful.”

Jack nodded, turning the story over in his head. “Were you there in Paris, when she –when she met DuBois?” DuBois’ name tasted like ashes in Jack’s mouth, and he felt a sense of creeping guilt for asking so much of Phryne’s life behind her back. Yet, he had to know.

“Yes, we were living together at the time. Phryne barely had a penny to her name and had nowhere to go. It was the least I could offer her after she saved my life. I wish I could say that I had known what was happening, and that I had stopped it…but truthfully Inspector, I hardly knew until it was too late. Phryne would often go out late at night and not come back for days, I never thought it was odd until she began to return with bruises on her face and body.” Jack inhaled quickly. He had known that DuBois had been a dangerous man, yet he had never learned the details of his affair with Phryne. He felt his blood boil.

“I helped her leave the country without DuBois’ knowledge. She left without saying farewell to anyone, not even the Sarcelles. I will never forget her climbing onto the ship back to Australia, defeated and shaken. That was the last time I saw Phryne Fisher, war veteran. The next time I saw her, I met her as the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher—a glamorous woman who was strong, defiant, and took nothing seriously.” Mac kicked her feet up on the ottoman next to her hat.

“Sometimes I wonder, you know, what happened in between the times I saw her. She does a damn good act of pretending she is invincible, but no one can survive the ordeals she has been through without it haunting her.” She continued more quietly. “She used to take laudanum to sleep better at nights, after Foyle came back. I prescribed her only the most minimum dose necessary, for she wanted her mind clear for investigating the night after. She refused to take it for weeks, but I insisted. She was about to have a nervous breakdown, and I hated seeing Phryne like that again – I wanted _that_ Phryne to have stayed in Paris, buried and gone for the rest of the world to see.”

Jack put his head in his hands. He had been with Phryne that entire time, and not once had he known any of this. Him, who prided himself in being the one man Phryne seemed to let in her life.

“Thank you, Doctor MacMillan. For sharing this with me,” Jack said sincerely, lifting his head. Mac nodded brusquely.

“Now,” she said, her tone turning into some semblance of joviality. “I’ve come all the way from Australia on a blasted ship back to the continent I never vowed to return to ever again. Let us have a drink and celebrate our mortality.”

Jack got up and poured her a healthy dose of whiskey before pouring himself a glass. “Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass to hers. 

"Cheers," Mac replied, tossing her drink back in one gulp. "You might as well call me Mac, like Phryne does Inspector." 

"Then you might as well call me Jack," he replied, smiling. "So tell me, what is it that has brought you back?" Jack put his drink back down on a side table.

"There is an important medical conference that is deliberating admissions reform for universities around the world to admit more female students. I thought my distaste for the continent seemed somewhat trivial, all things considered. Unfortunately, I was invited to the conference rather belatedly, and never found accommodations. So I thought I'd drop by and see if Phryne minded me staying for a few days."

Before Jack could respond, there was a knock at the door. 

"Are you expecting anyone?" Mac asked. She too must've come to the conclusion that Phryne would never knock at her own door. Jack shook his head in confusion. For the second time that morning, he pulled open the door to find someone completely unexpected. A handsome looking man, dressed smartly in a blue suit and perfectly groomed mustache stood at the door. He looked _foreign_ , but distinctly wealthy and very charming. When he spoke, there was a hint of a German accent.

"Good morning. Is this Phryne Fisher's room?"

"Yes, it is. May I ask who you are?"

The man grinned, looking from Jack to Mac, who had poked her head out the door as well. "I could ask the same of you sir. My name is Gustav Schumann. I am -ah- Phryne's cousin."

Jack's heart sank as Mac's eyebrows inched up toward the top of her forehead. 


	3. Gustav Schumann

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Jack meets learns another mystery from Phryne's past. There might be discrepancies in Phryne's timeline (the TV Series has me confused about how old Phryne even is), but I did my best!
> 
> **UPDATED** to include the last bit of the chapter!

“Er—cousin?” Jack asked in disbelief. ‘ _The lady did mention she was expecting her –er – cousin, sir.’_

Mac looked at Jack and seeing his composure falter, cut in. “I’m Dr. MacMillan, a close friend of Phryne’s. I don’t believe she ever mentioned having a cousin in England, Mr. Schumann.”

“Ah, that is truly unfortunate. May I come in?” Mr. Schumann peered into the suite. He had the air of a man who was unaccustomed to asking permission for anything.

Jack held the door open, gesturing in with a little more aggression than he intended. “Of course. I’m Detect—I mean, Jack Robinson. I’m er – “

“Also Phryne’s _cousin,_ ” Mac interrupted, a smirk gracing her features.

Mr. Schumann looked curiously at Jack, his eyes lingering on the battered suitcase lying open in the corner. Jack thought he saw the shadow of a smirk grace Mr. Schumman’s face.

“It appears Phryne has guests. I heard she was in town and thought I’d say hello, for old time’s sake.” His eyes twinkled, and Jack confirmed with unease that “cousin” had been a synonym for “old friends.”

“She isn’t in, Mr. Schumann. Do you wish to leave a message?” Jack asked, rather abruptly.

Mr. Schumann took a seat in Jack’s vacated armchair and crossed his legs, smiling rather widely. “Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to stay for a bit. I didn’t know Phryne had another—ah—cousin here in London. From where do you hail, Mr. Robinson.”

“We are both visiting from the Antipodes,” Mac responded, glancing at Jack. He looked as if he were about to burst. “Phryne left Australia rather abruptly, so we came to keep her company.”

“How very accommodating,” replied Mr. Schumann, choosing to overlook Mac’s flimsy excuse. His eyes lingered on Mac’s cravat and vest, then on Jack’s overcoat and hat hanging on the cloak rack..

“And when did you see _cousin_ Phryne last, Mr. Schumann?” Jack gritted out through his teeth.

“I believe it was a little before the War,” Mr. Schumann replied simply. “She was a right spitfire then too,” he added, his smile dripping with insinuation.

Jack’s knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. The fact that Phryne had a string of former lovers was no news to him, but the past few weeks had trying Jack’s rapidly evaporating patience.

“Mr. Schumann, it seems we cannot help you. If you would be so kind as to await Phryne’s call, I think our time has come to a close,” said Jack. He could not help but feel a smidgen of smugness at finally being able to refer to Phryne by her first name in front of strangers.

“Ah, just as well. I suppose it isn’t the fashionable thing to do, befriending your ex-fiance’s loved ones,” Mr. Schumann casually commented, standing up and brushing invisible lint off his pants.

“Ex-fiance?” Mac asked sharply. Jack made an involuntary noise that sounded something like a suffocating whale.  

“She did not tell you?” Mr. Schumann was obviously enjoying the effect of his statement and was not in a hurry to supply details. He walked over to a side table and poured himself a generous glass of whiskey.

“It was the summer of 1913, right before the war broke out. Phryne was still quite impoverished at the time and most definitely an unsuitable acquaintance, but I grudgingly met her through Aunt Prudence’s insistence. My mother was related to Prudence by marriage, making Phryne some distant cousin or other. So I decided to drop by while I was visiting relations in Australia.”

He took a sip before sitting back down in the armchair he had vacated a few minutes before. Jack and Mac were still standing by the door, as if frozen mid-gesture while about to show someone out.

“Phryne was of course quite different then. Wore these horrible rags that made her look like a stowaway on a freight train, but she was an indominatable spirit and a stubborn streak that nobody seemed to be able to break. I was captivated by her. A few weeks later, I thought, to hell with society! And proposed to Phryne. Aunt Prudence accepted on her behalf.”

Mr. Schumann continued, “I was ecstatic to say the least, but Phryne seemed much more subdued after our betrothal. I thought maybe, even if she did not love me then, that she would come to love the lifestyle she could lead with me.” His eyes softened, and he seemed lost in thought for a second before collecting himself.

“Well, we never got to find out, because the war broke out soon after. My family being German, was forced to flee back to Munich. So of course, I asked Phryne to come with us. But she never did.” Mr. Schumann drained the rest of his glass.

“A few weeks before our departure, Phryne and I had a series of rather frightful rows about – well, let’s just say we parted on rather ungracious terms. Still, it hurt terribly, though whether it was my young ego or my heart that was hurt more, I do not know.” Mr. Schumann grinned rather sheepishly.

“Either way, I am glad to see now that she has become a new woman. I have read quite a lot about her in the society pages the past few years,” the mischievous glitter in Mr. Schumman’s eyes returned. “It seems that she has gotten the lifestyle I could’ve provided, without the onerous task of being my wife.”

He stood abruptly, placing his glass back on the side table. He pulled out an expensive looking pocket watch and said, “Either way, it’s time I return back to the club and meet some men for a drink.” Mr. Schumann’s eyes sought Jack’s out and held them for a minute. His voice softened once again.

“I am no longer delusional enough to think that Phryne ever loved me, Mr. Robinson, or that our farce of an engagement was anything more than one of convenience. Her father had been, if my memory serves me correctly, a rather bad drunkard and gambler with thousands of pounds in debt. Maybe Phryne thought she could save him, or her family, I do not know. But I do know I cared deeply for my Phryne. She had always been a rather charming freight train, barging into my life – as I told her on more than one occasion…” He trailed off before opening the door himself and walking out, leaving the two occupants to stare after him in silence.

Mac was the first to move, firmly shutting the door behind Mr. Schumman. She grabbed Jack’s arm forcefully and gave him a push toward the settee.

“Sit,” she said tersely. She poured more whiskey into Jack’s empty glass from earlier that morning and shoved it in front of his face. “Drink.”

Jack did as she bid, his mind slowly processing everything that had just occurred.  A forgotten snippet of conversation crept forward.

_“The owner was very eager to get us out of there.”_

_“That wouldn’t have anything to do with you barging in there like a freight train, would it?”_

_“I was a charming freight train, Jack.”_

Jack gulped down the rest of his glass in one swallow. Why was it that every time he thought he had finally cracked the mystery of Miss Fisher’s elusive past, something happened to prove him completely and utterly wrong?

******

Phryne plopped into an armchair in the Fisher country estate. As much as she did not trust her father, the past few days had been rather uneventful, with Henry and Margaret Fisher experiencing a second honeymoon of sorts following a tearful reconciliation. The house had been silent for several hours now, and Phryne felt caged without anything to do. _If only there was a good murder case to distract myself with,_ Phryne thought. She sighed and flung her legs over the side of the armchair in a distinctly unlady-like fashion. She let her mind wander.

The night of Dot’s wedding had been an emotionally testing one. After Dot had tearfully thanked her employer and left as the new Mrs. Hugh Theobald Collins, the rest of the crew had headed to a nearby pub where Phryne’s golden dress and headpiece looked distinctly out of place. Even so, Phryne had been determined to have a good time, as Bert and Cec played a round of pool with the “Baron, mate.” As the hours progressed and the number of pints consumed increased, Bert and Cec began to sing emotional odes to their employer. Phryne laughed boisterously next to Mac, who had been tipsily swaying to the raucous tunes.

Jack had been characteristically quiet, though the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement. As Mac went to retrieve another pint at the bar, Phryne turned and placed her hand on Jack’s thigh. He looked down at her hand, then back at Phryne, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Dance with me?” Phryne asked.

“But there is no music, Miss Fisher,” he had responded.

“Dance with me,” she responded again firmly, standing up and holding her hand out. Bert and Cec had begun playing a round of darts, when a one shot dangerously past Phryne’s shoulder. She turned around and glared good naturedly at the apologetic Bert.

“Jack Robinson, dance with me before I die of Bert’s awful lack of coordination.”

Jack stood up, taking his overcoat off and placing it next to his hat. Mac leaned on the bar, looking over her pint curiously.

“Phryne, may I have this dance?” He held out his hand. Phryne took it, reveling in the warmth, as he pulled her closer to him than strictly necessary (or proper). They swayed silently to music, as Bert wolf whistled and Cec let out a loud hoot. Some of the more drunken patrons of the pub yelled, “Get a room, mister!”

Phryne had been oblivious to these remarks. She could feel nothing but the steady beat of Jack’s heart under his vest, and his warm breath on her cheek. She slid her left hand from his grip to under his suit jacket, pulling him closer. His hand curled around her waist, as he rested his cheek on her forehead.

“Don’t leave Phryne,” Jack said, quietly. It was so soft that Phryne thought she had imagined it. Phryne’s breath caught, her lips tantalizingly close to his.

A roar erupted from behind them as the Baron hit bulls eye, breaking the moment. Phryne stepped back slightly, breathing in.

“I can’t Jack. I’m doing this for my mother, not for him. He doesn’t deserve her,” she muttered, the bitterness apparent in her tone. “My mother should never have waltzed with him. She would’ve had a much better life without him.”

Jack too stepped back, the romanticism of the waltz now vanished.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he replied simply.

A month ago, he probably would’ve made an excuse to leave, but the night before Phryne’s departure seemed the wrong time to pull such a stunt. So he stayed, sitting next to her quietly, holding her hand. They sat for what felt like several hours in silence, before Mac declared she would head home. Bert and Cec finished up their game and collected their belongings, as the Baron stumbled towards the car outside.

Phryne realized this would be the last time she would see Jack, possibly for months. Her heart ached. _Why did I have to bring up my father. Why couldn’t I have just let tonight be about us._

Seeing Jack reach for his hat, Phryne quickly stepped forward, blocking him. Before he had a chance to utter his surprise, Phryned pulled his face toward hers and tenderly kissed him. Jack froze for a few seconds, before opening his mouth and kissed her back. He hands wound around her waist, his left hand wandering up to the back of her head.

They broke apart breathlessly a few minutes later.

“Well Jack, it looks like we  _can_ make do with each other." She grinned cheekily, trying to add levity to their temporary farewell.

Jack smiled, but did not respond until a minute later. “I won’t say goodbye, Phryne," Jack said, as if reading her mind. "We will see each other again soon. But know that I will be thinking of you, and that you will be sorely missed.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead, giving her a lingering look before picking up his hat and overcoat.

Cec poked his head back into the pub, asking if Phryne wanted a lift home. She nodded, watching the back of Jack’s retreating form. The entire ride home, she remained silent to her father’s boisterous story-telling and inquiries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I was trying to find a fine line between Mr. Schumann being a slightly sleazy aristocrat and genuinely caring person (sort of like how Henry Fisher makes you feel in the show.) I promise in the next chapter, we will learn more of Jack's past as well (and he will do more than gape.)


	4. Jane Ross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, here's the next chapter, focusing on the relationship between Jane and Jack. I was hoping to show a more playful side of Jack, brought out by the wonderful Jane. I hope I haven't been boring any of you guys without more plot development, but I've loved all the feedback so far. Please comment and let me know what you think! 
> 
> Here's to our lovely Jane, who will hopefully come back for Season 4...

Jane tapped her fountain pen impatiently on her desk, seemingly unaware of the flecks of ink splattering across her stationary. A crumpled letter draft lay open next to the blank sheet in front of her.

 _"Dear Jack –“_ She wrote with a flourish, something she had seen Miss Phryne do on multiple occasions.

_“Thank you very much for the thoughtful gift you sent me last week. I was devastated to have missed Dot’s wedding, but my ship from Marseilles has been docked off the coast of Portugal for several weeks now, due to an unexpected ocean storm. I tried my best to convince the captain to continue sailing, but he threatened to put me under compartment arrest should I continue to pester him.”_

Jane chewed on the tip of her pen before continuing, “ _I’m sure even Miss Phryne wouldn’t have been able to return to Australia in such a storm, which is truly saying something, as she is quite a force of nature herself.”_ Jane nodded in satisfaction, thinking the Inspector of all people would understand the sentiment.

_“I am currently looking for a ship to sail me to London, where I am hoping to surprise Miss Phryne. I heard from Mr. Butler that she is still looking after her father. He sounds truly awful.”_

She paused, before grinning cheekily.

 _““I’ll send her your love.”_ Jane placed the letter in an envelope and rang for the porter.

Jane and the Inspector had started their correspondence three months ago, when Jack had written to her in Paris, providing updates on her biological mother’s employment. Jack had pulled some strings at City South and had found Jane’s mother a place to work through a women’s initiative program. Since then, Jane and the Inspector had exchanged several letters about their respective lives and Miss Phryne. While Jane was still young, she was not foolish; and only a fool would not see much the Inspector loved Miss Phryne.

Jane rubbed her hands together and finished packing her trunk, placing the frayed copies of _Anatomy, a Study_ and _Criminology and Its Studies_ on top of her clothes. Jack had sent both books to her a week previously, with a note mentioning that both were books from his personal collection, and that he hoped she would read them with interest. 

It was then she noticed a photo lying on the ground next to her trunk, presumably having fallen out of the book. It was of Miss Fisher striking a pose, her right arm dramatically raised over her head. It looked a lot like a mugshot, but Jane had no idea how or when this photo had been taken. On the back, in Jack’s signature scrawl were the words, “The Ritz, London.”

 _Had the photo been taken there? How had the Inspector gotten a hold of it?_ She inspected the ink closer—the photo was frayed around the edges, as if it had been taken over a year ago. She noticed the ink had been smudged too, presumably developed in a haste, which would not have happened at a glamorous place like the Ritz. Jane brought the back of the photo up closer for inspection, and grinned broadly – the ink was new, so Jack had to have left this on purpose. _Had_ _he followed Miss Phryne to London?_ Jane lowered the photo triumphantly, proud of herself for solving the “mystery.”

She remembered last Christmas in July when her not-so-subtle mistletoe plan had been cruelly foiled by Aunt Prudence. _Finally!_ Jane thought. _Jack Robinson had stepped up his game._ Jane whistled, walking to the door where the porter stood expectantly.

“Change of plans. Please send the letter to the Ritz Hotel in London,” Jane said, handing the porter the envelope. _Time to find a way to London!_ She thought gleefully.

******

Jack strolled down to the hotel foyer and over to the front desk to pick up his mail. It had already been a week since his arrival, yet there had been no sign of Phryne in sight. He was starting to feel listless. _If only there was another murder investigation. Maybe then she’d come hurtling back to me_ , Jack thought with a wry grin.

Jack thanked the front desk man, before walking away, sifting through the mail. Most of the missives were unsurprisingly for Phryne, but Jack caught sight of two envelopes addressed to him. He smiled when he recognized Jane’s familiar handwriting. _So she had found his clue!_

Over the past few months, Jack had become very close to the youngest member of the Fisher household, finding her to be a mix of both Phryne and Jack’s best qualities. While she had a mischievous streak that often led her to trouble, Jane was intelligent, inquisitive, kind-hearted, and most importantly – shared Jack’s love for reading. She was, in every way, the type of girl Jack would’ve loved as his own daughter.

It was therefore with great difficulty that Jack tucked her letter into the inside pocket of his overcoat. While his first instinct was to tear open the letter and peruse its contents immediately, Jane’s missive was a much needed break from the monotony of the Ritz, and needed to be properly savored. He turned his gaze to the other rather expensive looking envelope.

Inside was an elaborate invitation, with cursive script announcing that his presence was humbly requested at the Duke of Gloucester’s Ball. Jack stared bemusedly. He did not know any English aristocrats, especially not the Duke of Gloucester. Jack turned the card over and read, _“Inspector Robinson – you must be awfully bored while Phryne is away. Please do accept my kindest invitation and drop by with the charming Dr. MacMillan – you may even be pleasantly surprised and enjoy yourself. Warmly, Gustav.”_

Jack tiled his head. So Mr. Schumann was the Duke of Gloucester. He shook his head amusedly and reminded himself to mention the invitation to Mac. He personally had no intention of making a fool of himself at a ball, but maybe Mac would like a change of scenery.

Jack had become so accustomed to the solitude of Phryne’s suite, that he did not bother looking around after unlocking the door and stepping in. He walked straight to the armchair and pulled out Jane’s missive. So absorbed in the letter, Jack did not observe the extra trunk lying next to the suite entrance. He heard a throat clear loudly and looked up, startled.

“Jane!” Jack exclaimed, grinning instantly, willing his heart rate to slow. “I thought you’d be a few more days from Portugal!”

Jane shrugged her shoulders carelessly, before tentatively walking towards Jack. She looked as if she was deliberating whether or not to shake his hand, their friendship still young enough to warrant some distance. Jack stood up and hesitantly opened his arms. Half a second later, he found his arms full as Jane launched herself into his embrace. She stepped back sheepishly a few seconds later.

“Where’s Miss Phryne?” She asked, looking around and finding none of Phryne’s belongings strewed about the room, as was usually the case. “And are those— _Mac’s_ clothes?” She asked in surprise.

Jack chuckled slightly nervously. “Yes, they are. She’s in town for a conference, and Phryne has yet to know any of us are here— she’s been taking care of business with her father.” Jane’s eyes lingered over the pillows tossed haphazardly on the settee, where Jack had been spending his nights.

“Ah, well, I was going to find other accommodations when Mac showed up,” Jack explained defensively. “But I believe she said, ‘Don’t be a damned fool, Jack. There’s plenty of space for an entire circus troupe,’ and marched me back into the suite.” Jane grinned at the uncanny impersonation. 

They both moved to sit toward the armchairs. Jane took the seat where Jack’s overcoat had been carelessly tossed over, and made to move it, when the corner of the invitation caught her eye.

“What’s that?” Jane asked. Before Jack could reply, she made to pull it out. She stopped herself last minute, immediately lowering her eyes in embarrassment. Jack smiled comfortingly and handed her the invitation.

“I was invited to a ball, but I’m not going to go. I thought I’d pass it onto Mac though.”

Jane’s eyes lit up. “Oh, but we _must_ go, Jack! It’ll be my first ball – and in London society no less! Please, let us go!” She jumped up and down in her seat excitedly, embarrassment forgotten. Jack opened his mouth to protest, but found that Jane had wrapped her arms around him enthusiastically, swinging his torso side to side as she continued to plead, “Please, please, please!!”

Jack was unsure of what societal rules applied to a young girl not yet “presented” to society, nor was he looking forward to facing snobby aristocrats look down their noses at the lowly copper. However, seeing Jane’s pleading eyes, Jack’s heart melted a little. He pushed his doubts aside.

“Well, looks like I’ll have to find my tuxedo,” Jack answered in response. Jane squealed as she launched herself off the settee toward her trunk, flinging clothes everywhere as she reached for a dress. “You said Dr. MacMillan was here too, right? Oh, we’re going to have so much _fun_!” Jane pulled out a periwinkle blue dress triumphantly, and spun around with it.

Jack grinned.

******

Four hours later, Jack found himself nervously adjusting his bowtie as he got out of the car. The Duke had sent a personal car to pick them up, and while in other circumstances the gesture might have been slightly overbearing, Jack was rather relieved he did not have to navigate through England on his own.  Mac stood next to him in a smart three-piece suit and cravat, which was overlaid with fine golden threads. She had replaced her usual brown fedora with a black one made of expensive felt. He himself was dressed in his only tuxedo. The silver vest fit loosely around his torso, as he had lost considerable weight as a bachelor. _That lean hungry look_ ¸ Phryne had called it.

Jane linked her arm with Jack’s as if they were two friends at a picnic, rather than at a ball. She looked mature and beautiful in a periwinkle dress, her hair braided in a single plait. (Mac had grimaced rather melodramatically when Jane had asked for help.)

“Ah, Mr. Robinson!” exclaimed a voice from the crowd. Jack saw Mr. Schumann appear in a well-tailored blue tuxedo, the velvet texture gleaming from the chandelier lights. “And Dr. MacMillan, what a true honor it is you came.” Mac nodded her head in acknowledgment, but said nothing. She too had been reluctant to attend, but had given into Jane’s considerable persuasive skills. 

_“It’s been several years since I’ve been invited to high society,” Mac had protested. Jack presumed it had something to do with her preference for female companionship, and said nothing. Jane merely made doe-eyes at Mac, before the latter threw her hands up in resignation. “Fine, let’s get this over with then, shall we.”_

It was ironic how the three of them had ended up at London’s most fashionable event of the season – the copper, a former stowaway, and a lesbian doctor—from the fringes of society to the very heart of it. _All thanks to Phryne_ , Jack thought.

Inside, nearly a hundred people were waltzing around a large ballroom. Jane’s eyes widened, her hand clutching Jack’s arm harder. Jack gave her a reassuring smile. When Mac wandered off to the bar, striking immediate conversation with a rather pretty waitress, Jack turned to Jane and held out his gloved hand.

“Miss Jane, will you do me the pleasure of this waltz?” Jane nodded, but no words seemed to come to the usually garrulous girl.

Jack led her to the dance floor, having to bend down considerably to meet her height. When the orchestra started a light, tinkling waltz, he led them around in slow circles before picking up the speed when Jane’s courage seemed to trickle back. She grinned up at him and tugged Jack’s right hand, indicating for him to move faster. He threw his head back and laughed, doing as Jane bid. They laughed throughout the majority of the dance, Jack narrowly navigating around other more stately couples who gave them slightly disapproving looks. Jane grinned cheekily back.

Mr. Schumann looked at the duo and smiled softly, before getting another drink.

*****

For the first time in her adult life, Phryne Fisher found herself bored at a social gathering. She knew she looked ravishing in a new forest green ensemble that she had specially tailored to fit London’s newest styles. It had a provocative asymmetric hemline, with the higher end starting at the knee, gently sloping down to her ankles. The neckline was almost conservative for Phryne’s standards, but was compensated for the daring plunge of the back. She was wearing a silver headdress that was connected to a Chanel necklace that draped elegantly down her back. The material of the dress hinted at her narrow waist and décolletage, without explicitly showing it.

In short, Phryne looked ravishing.

However, while on previous occasions, Phryne would’ve reveled in the attention she was receiving (both positive and negative), she did not feel as giddy tonight. A circle of young, eager men stood at the bar, gazing at her with admiration. Over the course of the evening, a few gentlemen had walked over and asked for her hand in a waltz, but she had refused politely each time. 

It wasn't that she didn't want to dance, but after her waltz with Jack, Phryne felt almost _guilty_ waltzing with another man. To her, the waltz was _Jack's dance,_ and she did not wish to taint its beauty by sharing it with anyone else. 

However, she noticed that the small orchestra that had been playing waltzes all evening was on break, as a jazz quartet took the stage. Phryne looked around, wondering if she should finally join the young dancers on the floor. One of the more handsome young men broke away from the bar circle, and walked toward her.

“Miss Fisher, would you do me the honor of this dance?” 

Phryne nodded and gave the young man a bright smile, draining her sixth glass of champagne. Her new dance partner placed a daring hand at the small of her back, feeling her exposed skin. Phryne smiled properly this time, realizing how long it had been since a man had touched her. Jack, while smoldering in his gazes and light touches, had never dared to make a _proper_ move on her.

Phryne closed her eyes and raised her arms above her head, swaying sensually to the first blare of the trumpet. She continued to sway side to side, as her partner pulled her close, his breath warm against her neck. As much as she missed Jack, Phryne had missed how liberated dancing made her feel, and she reveled in it. It had been much too long.

Soon, the younger dancers on the floor began to swap partners as the tempo of the music sped up. Phryne whooped loudly, as the faces in front of her blurred. She felt herself being spun and tossed from one partner to another, and she found herself laughing for the first time since her arrival in England.

The song soon came to an end, as the band struck up a jazzy tango. The song seemed even more sensual than tangoes she had heard before—faster paced, but accompanied by the added beat of snare drums and the slow wail of a saxophone. Phryne felt her foot tap along to the beat. The effect of copious alcohol combined with her general frustration at Jack’s absence and her father’s stubbornness made Phryne crave to do something rash—anything to let out her pent-up frustration. 

She looked around for someone to scandalize her fellow aristocrats with, and spotted a young man who was practically drooling over her. She gave him a sensual smirk and crooked her finger at him. He looked alarmed, as if unaware she was gesturing toward him, and looked around. Realizing Phryne was, in fact, looking at him, the man jumped to his feet and practically tumbled over toward her in his haste. Phryne felt the rush of power, as a familiar exhilaration washed over her.

Just as the young man was about to pull Phryne’s waist toward him, another man cut in, his proximity momentarily preventing Phryne from seeing his face.

“I believe you said to come after you, Miss Fisher. The least you can do is grant me this dance,” rumbled a familiar voice. Phryne gasped, unwilling to believe her ears. _It must be the champagne, I’ve had too much to drink tonight._ But even in a coma, Phryne was sure she would have recognized the familiar smell of sandalwood and fresh laundry emanating from the man in front of her. 

Jack Robinson smiled warmly down at Phryne, before pulling her flush against his torso as the tango began in earnest. A violin blared in the background, harmonizing with the saxophone, producing an exhilarating spin to the traditional tango.

Phryne was too shocked to do anything for a few seconds, following Jack’s lead. He was a confident dancer, which shouldn’t have surprised Phryne after their waltz at the Grand, yet it still did. Maybe it was because she had never thought Jack to be capable of passion; devotion, yes, but not passion. _Just the many ways he has surprised me_ , thought Phryne.

She began to take a hold of herself again, straightening her back. She looked up at Jack from a hooded gaze. Jack missed a half beat, taken aback by the suddenly seductive façade Phryne had adopted. She raised her right foot and trailed it up Jack’s leg, before maneuvering into a backward _ocho_ , swiveling backwards then forwards in Jack’s frame. Jack gulped visibly, but continued to move them across the dance floor with confidence. The violin reached a dizzying tempo, as the pair danced beside each other, than together, before coming together as one. Jack dipped her at the final explosion of notes that ended the song.

Phryne was breathing heavily, Jack’s mouth millimeters from hers. Just when she thought he would dare to kiss her in front of all present, Jack straightened up and pulled Phryne to her feet. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or Jack’s presence that made her head spin, but she did not complain and he lead her by the hand to the bar.

There sat Mac, smirking at her from over the brim of a glass, and Jane, who was sipping what appeared to be a virgin Shirley Temple.

“Jane! Mac!” Phryne exclaimed, immediately engulfing both in a massive hug. She held onto them longer than she usually did, letting go only when Mac pulled away to adjust her cravat.

“Missed us now, have you?” Mac asked, her tone teasing but her eyes shining with affection.

“You have no idea,” replied Phryne. She turned to Jack and straightened his bow tie that had gone askew during their dance. “You’re here,” she said softly, running her hand through his hair, loosening the curls. It was a rare sign of public affection, and Jack felt a surge of joy at their coincidental reunion.

Jane cleared her throat loudly, and grinned at Phryne. “He almost didn’t come, but I made him!” Phryne looked from her to Jack, then to Mac, who nodded in confirmation.

“And how did all of you end up in London? Did you miss me that much?” Phryne teased, the giddiness of reuniting with her family finally giving way to curiosity. “And at this particular ball?” Phryne added.

“Ah, well, I er—asked your aunt where you might be staying—(Phryne suppressed a desire to giggle at the image)- and took the first ship over. I arrived about a week ago, when Mac showed up for a conference,” Jack explained.

Mac continued, “I was hoping to find last minute accommodations with you, when none other than _cousin Jack_ opened the door.” She smiled cheekily as Phryne fluttered her eyelashes and pretended to look demure.

“And my ship got stuck off the coast of Portugal, so I thought I’d visit Jack at the Ritz while you were gone!” Jane jumped in. Phryne raised an arched eyebrow. “You thought you’d visit _Jack?_ ”

“We’ve been, well, writing each other for some time, and he mentioned he was here waiting for you to return,” Jane trailed off, quickly draining her Shirley Temple to avoid having to explain her “secret” correspondence with Jack. Phryne looked between Jack and Jane, finding herself surprisingly relieved at how well the two of them got along. She caught herself smiling faintly, when she met Mac's piercing gaze. Phryne looked away quickly, afraid of what her friend might discern.

“As for this ball, I believe Mac and I made Mr. Schumann’s acquaintance recently.” Jack mentioned the meeting casually, but carefully watched Phryne’s reaction. Her mouth dropped into a small “o,” as comprehension dawned on her face.

"So _that's_  what he meant," Phryne muttered, almost to herself. Seeing Jack's curious expression, she explained, "Gustav wrote to me out of the blue the other day and told me I'd be pleasantly surprised if I showed up tonight. I wasn't going to come but my father insisted we get out of the house..." Jack nodded slowly, a slow smile spreading across his face. 

"I guess we should thank Mr. Schumann then, for _old time's sake_." Phryne looked up anxiously, expecting indignation - after all, an ex-fiancé rearing his head in a new relationship was hardly ideal - but Jack seemed to be teasing in good humor. Phryne grinned as well.

"So what have you been up to?" Mac asked, reminding Phryne and Jack that they were not alone.

Phryne broke her gaze with the Inspector, and tossed her hair in exasperation. “Trying to keep my father out of prison, if you must know,” she retorted. “He doesn’t seem to care a stitch for anyone other than himself.”

“Phryne darling, that’s terribly uncharitable of you,” came a hearty voice from behind them. Baron Fisher stood with his arm held out for a very elegantly dressed woman, whom Jack assumed was Phryne’s mother. She was dressed just as exquisitely as Phryne, though more conservatively. She held her head proudly like a woman of her status should, but her eyes were kind and tired.

“Jack, may I introduce my mother, the Baroness Margaret Fisher,” Phryne said, gesturing toward the older woman. The Baroness glanced at Jack’s protective arm around Phryne’s waist, a hint of humor passing in her eyes. “A pleasure to meet you, Inspector. I have heard rather a lot about you, between my husband and daughter.” She held out her hand, over which Jack bowed awkwardly. It was a gesture he had seen over the course of the night, and assumed was an English custom. He heard Mac and Jane suppress laughter at his obvious discomfort. 

The Baron looked curiously around to Mac and Jane. “You must be Jane,” the Baron exclaimed, shaking her hand enthusiastically. “Phryne has been rather ungenerous in providing details about you, but Prudence tells me you’re a truly wonderful young lady.” Jane grimaced and exchanged an amused glance with Phryne. Whatever Aunt P had said about Jane, fondly or otherwise, Jane was sure that it had definitely _not_ been that she was a “wonderful young lady.”

“Now, seeing as I’m rather famished, why don’t all of us return home for a bite to eat? You must all stay with us at the country estate, of course,” blustered the Baron. “It’s not as comfortable as our former estate, but well, it’ll have to do for now.” He snapped his fingers at a porter and asked for their checked coats.

Phryne peered up at Jack, silently asking if he was alright with this decision. Jack nodded imperceptibly and smiled. “We can have your belongings sent up to our estate,” Phryne said to Mac and Jane.

“And maybe we can hold off on _your_ clothes for a few days,” Phryne whispered at Jack, her tone suggestive. She winked, and before Jack could close his mouth, strode over to Jane and linked arms with her ward. “You must tell me all about your adventures!”

Mac stood up and nudged Jack in the ribs. “I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear that now, shall I?” She pulled on her hat with a flourish, and also walked forward to take Jane’s other arm.


	5. Margaret Fisher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've always wondered what Margaret Fisher would be like, especially considering Phryne resembles so little of her father in character (though maybe in 'shady tricks.') This is my take, followed by a heart-to-heart between our lovebirds.

For the fourth time that night, Jack found himself standing in front of Phryne’s door, unable to muster the courage to knock. He raised his clenched fist with determination, and paused again.

 _Good god, Robinson, pull yourself together – it’s a knock on a door, not a marriage proposal!_ Jack shook his head at his own absurdity, willing himself to not emulate a certain Constable Collins in his romantic overtures.

If he was entirely honest with himself, Jack had no particular reason to be knocking on Phryne’s door at such a late hour. There was nothing urgent that could not wait until morning. In fact, the _old Jack_ ¸ as he had started to refer to the more conservative aspect of his character, would have been somewhat alarmed at even the thought of venturing past Phryne’s door past midnight – especially with her parents across the hall. But the _new Jack_ , the side of him that did not care a whit what the Ritz thought of him or his reputation, longed to be with Phryne; to be able to look into her eyes and know that they gazed solely at him, and to finally make into reality the many promises of _another place, at another time_.

It seemed all too clear to Jack that he didn’t just _want_ Phryne; he _needed_ her. In fact, at this present moment in time, he craved her with frightening desperation – and Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was _never_ desperate.

However, it seemed that Jack had passed the point of no return, for the moment he had given in to the incorrigible, indominatable spirit that was Phryne Fisher, he had lost all semblance of control. It was why during the few months following Christmas in July, Jack had felt his emotions ricochet rapidly, swinging between jealous anger to giddy optimism in a blink of an eye. In England, he was determined to regain some semblance of control, and stop moping over the _what if’s_ long enough to actively pursue the _will be’s._

Which is why he stood in front of Phryne’s door to try to articulate once and for all, that he was in England, not because she told him to, but because he _wanted_ to. He raised his fist again to knock.

“She’s outside on the patio, Inspector,” a soft voice said behind him. Jack whirled around, his eyes unadjusted to the darkness enveloping the hallway.

The Baroness stood with a candle, no longer in glittering jewels and elaborate gowns, but in a lavender silk robe that matched her soft voice and gaze. Without her usual makeup, Jack realized she looked a lot like Phryne.

“I – er – she—I think she left something behind in the parlor earlier,” Jack said in a rush, feeling as if he were a delinquent schoolboy caught past curfew.

Margaret Fisher smiled softly, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. For a moment, Jack thought he had been let off the hook, but the Baroness responded quietly, “You forget I raised Phryne, Inspector. I have heard many an excuse in my day.”

Jack gaped, then cleared his throat, looking at anything but the Baroness. With a Phryne-esque grin, she continued, “I was just about to get a cup of tea, if you’d like to join me? I can show you out to the patio afterward.”

Jack was about to make an excuse and stumble back to his guest room, but saw the Baroness was standing firmly in place, waiting for him to precede her in the hall. It seemed as if he had been given no choice. He grasped carefully onto the railing and toed his way down the stairs, the dark shapes of the hall slowly solidifying in his adjusting vision.

“This way, Inspector,” the Baroness said, guiding him toward a small alcove next to the staircase. They walked into a small, but well-furnished kitchen. She began to boil some water on the stove, moving efficiently and quickly. After carefully scooping tea into a strainer, she closed the tea container tightly, checking to make sure it was air-tight. For the first time, Jack could see a glimmer of the Margaret Fisher who had lived in poverty, rather than the Baroness who had played hostess to him all evening. He felt himself relax at the thought.

After a few minutes in silence, the Baroness brought over two cups of tea on a tray. She handed Jack a cup and sat across from him, looking at him appraisingly from over the rising steam. A part of Jack wondered if he imagined the flicker of amusement in her eyes, but did not dwell on the thought as the Baroness addressed him.

“Well then, Inspector. How is pursuing my impossible daughter?” The Baroness asked, as casually as she would the weather. Jack sputtered, coughing violently as he inhaled the hot liquid.

“Knowing Phryne, she probably has not made it very easy for you,” Margaret continued, ignoring Jack’s wheezing gasps. “I’m sure you didn’t come all the way to England to find her imprisoned in her parents’ home.” Jack opened his mouth in denial, but could only continue coughing. The Baroness smiled reassuringly.

“You know, I always wondered what kind of man would capture my Phryne’s heart. She was always so very stubborn, and refused to let anyone hold her down.” The Baroness sipped at her tea, looking thoughtful. Jack did not say anything, still thrown off balance by the Baroness’s direct inquiry.

“You know, she is more like me than I had hoped, Inspector. You may find it difficult to see now, but when I was young, I was very much like Phryne. I thought that the only way to be free was to never let a man tie me down, so that I could forever do as I pleased. But then I met Henry and fell so hopelessly in love, I thought I didn’t care anymore for my freedom.”

It was now Jack’s turn to look appraisingly at the Baroness. Feeling strangely bold, Jack asked, “Do you regret it?”

To his surprise, the Baroness threw back her head and laughed, emitting a rich, throaty sound.

“I see you are not a fan of Henry, either. Although, how could you, when all you’ve seen is his drinking and his gambling.” She paused, then continued in a softer tone.

“My husband has many faults, Inspector. But he taught me to be free in a different way than I could have imagined before my marriage—he taught me to free myself from my own fears and demons, and to let myself trust again. You see, I did not have the most delightful childhood either...” She trailed off.

Jack did not respond, but remembered the one time Phryne had allowed herself to lose complete control in front of him, kneeling by Janey’s grave as she drowned in her past demons.

“Thank you, Inspector, for bringing her back to us – no matter how unfortunate the occasion.”

Jack responded quickly, “She came of her own accord, Baroness – I merely followed.”

“That may be so,” Margaret responded, “But someone has provoked a change in her, and I believe you may have played a role. The Phryne I once knew would never have left behind her life, her friends, and her freedom to help the man whom she believed to be a tyrant for so long – someone, or something, has helped her to see beyond her hatred and anger. Someone has helped her heal, and I will thank any man or woman who has played a role in bringing her that much closer to us.”

There was a moment of silence while the Baroness looked pensively into her now empty teacup. Jack though he heard a slight shuffle come from outside the kitchen door, and ignored it. However, the noise seemed to have shaken the Baroness from her thoughts. She stood up and adopted a more business-like tone.

“Now, if you will excuse me, Inspector, I think I will go back up to bed. It is rather late.” She placed her teacup in the sink, and began to make her way out of the kitchen. Right before she entered the hall, she said over her shoulder, “Please do tell Phryne that eavesdropping is rather rude,” and disappeared out the dark alcove.

A few seconds later, Jack heard a quiet creak of the door, as Phryne poked her head in the kitchen. She wore no makeup, and was swathed in the same kimono she had been wearing after the night of the Pandarus incident. She looked lovely – pure, unaffected, and adorably contrite.

“I see you have met my mother, the devious Margaret Fisher,” Phryne said, holding the door open so Jack could follow her out to the patio. “She is a dangerous woman to underestimate.”

“She’s certainly not what I expected,” Jack responded with a smile, deciding to sit next to Phryne on a wooden swing, rather than take his customary seat in a nearby chair. Phryne noticed the change, and shifted closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder with a small smile. Jack pulled her closer, putting his arm around her shoulder. For several minutes, they sat in comfortable silence.

“You know, she could’ve just talked to me directly,” Phryne murmured.

“I’m sure she knew better than to assume you would listen,” Jack teased. “Do you think she knew you were listening the entire time?”

“Knowing my mother? Probably,” Phryne responded.

They fell into another comfortable silence. Phryne realized lazily that she had never before been in male company without feeling the need to entertain and be entertained in return. She found she rather liked this feeling of mutual camaraderie. _I could get used to this._

“Get used to what?” Jack asked. Phryne realized she had spoken aloud.

Phryne was about to respond with a flirtatious statement, but stopped herself. “You,” she said simply. She felt Jack pull her closer, and thought she felt the hint of a kiss being placed on the top of her head. She snuggled closer still, wrapping her arms around his strong torso.

“You never asked me about Gustav,” Phryne brought up casually, picking at invisible lint on Jack’s pajamas. He was dressed in a rather endearing blue cotton set that made him look a bit like an overgrown schoolboy.

“I don’t need to,” Jack responded, being careful to echo her casual tone. “I respect your past, Phryne, just as you have respected mine.” Recalling something Rosie had said months before, he added, “It’s different, the second time around.”

Phryne turned her head curiously. “I guess I never thought of Gustav as my ‘first time around,’ but with you…it’s different. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing or whether I’m doing it right. It’s terrifying.” She ran her fingers across the buttons of Jack’s pajama shirt nervously.

When Jack did not say anything, she continued, “During the Strano case, Guido told me that whoever it was, he was a lucky man. It was the first time I really confronted myself with the thought that things could be different, and I would be alright.”

“Should I be worried about this ‘lucky man?” Jack asked, and gave Phryne a grin before she hit him lightly over the chest. When she had stopped her attack, he continued softly. “Concetta knew too.” He felt Phryne still, her body alert.

“She knew before I could even admit it to myself that my heart had already been taken.” Phryne sucked in a quick breath at the statement. They were precariously close to dangerous grounds, possibly too treacherous for their budding relationship. She was about to divert the topic when Jack pulled away slightly, and pulled her chin upward so she could look him in the eyes. Before she could protest, Jack continued in a deep, earnest voice.

“You do know that, don’t you? That my heart is no longer my own.” Jack looked intense, his gaze searching and his voice trembling with repressed emotion. There was an urgency in his tone that Phryne was unaccustomed to hearing outside a crime scene. Phryne nodded, unwilling to trust her voice.

“I don’t need you to say anything, or to make any grand declarations, Phryne, but you must understand – the moment I boarded that ship for England, I left all reason behind. I told myself after my divorce that I would never let myself be vulnerable again, and yet you have changed everything for me. _Everything_ ,” Jack reiterated, his voice trembling noticeably now.

Phryne blinked back a sudden wetness in her eyes, and swallowed thickly. She wished more than anything to console him, to tell him that she understood, but she seemed incapable of finding words. She cursed her weakness.

“I love you, Phryne Fisher, and no one from your past, present, or future can stop me from loving you,” Jack said, quietly but firmly. “I will be here so long as you want me, and I will never ever leave you or your family should you need me, even if things don’t work out.”

Phryne felt the tears finally roll down her cheeks, her heart both pounding at the thought of Jack’s unwavering dedication, and breaking at the sadness in his voice. For the first time, she had no fast comebacks or witty responses. She felt the weight of her insecurities and anxieties finally leave her. Wordlessly, she pulled his face toward hers and kissed him with every fiber of her being. Without a plane to hurry them or family to interrupt, they kissed languidly and unrestrainedly.

They pulled apart after what felt like several hours, to smile and lean into each other. Jack nuzzled the top of Phryne’s head, wondering how he could feel so _whole_ again. He had thought that feeling no longer possible after the war.

“I’m so glad that you and Jane are getting along,” Phryne said, her voice muffled by Jack’s arm.

“She’s a very difficult young lady to dislike,” Jack responded, stroking Phryne’s hair. “I imagine you were a lot like her, in your misguided youth.”

Phryne gave him a mock glare. “I suppose I was, but she is much stronger than I ever was. Sometimes I wonder if I am supporting her, or her me.”

“She is a very precocious young woman,” Jack agreed, recalling some of her own letters to him. “And cheeky.” 

Phryne laughed. “Well what kind of a guardian would I be if I didn’t teach her not to take things seriously.”

“It has been several years since 1918, Miss Fisher,” Jack said humorously. Phryne hrumphed.

“I realized the other day, Jack, I don’t actually know anything about your family.” 

Jack continued to stroke Phryne’s hair, allowing the glossy strands to fall from her fingertips. “There isn’t too much to tell. My mother and father both grew up in Richmond, and met on the factory floor. He was a mechanic, and had come to repair some machines when he caught sight of my mother, fumbling rather horribly with a sewing machine.” Phryne looked up curiously, her lips curling into a smile.

“It was her first day, you see, and having grown up as the youngest of three daughters, had spent very little time sewing and altogether too much time running around with her equally misbehaved sisters.” Jack’s eyes twinkled.

“Do you have any siblings?” Phryne asked.

“No, I was an only child. I vowed to make my parents proud and entered the police academy at a very young age. After the war, through good fortune, I was promoted up the ladder quite quickly.”

“And then participated in the police strike?” Phryne had always been curious how the usually risk-averse Detective Inspector had put his career on the line so easily.

“As you know, Chief Commissioner Nicholson was not a very competent or popular man. I had just been promoted to Junior Detective Inspector, but found myself spending more time managing my angry and defiant constables, rather than fighting crime. They were convinced their jobs were on the line, and hoped the strike would bring about better treatment.” Jack’s hand stilled, as he remembered the violent nights and constables he had lost in the fights.

“I felt passionately about fighting nepotism, but the fighting was not what I had expected. Even so, I marched with my fellow constables to show my support.”

“How very egalitarian of you, Inspector.” Phryne was smiling, but there was an underlying tone of respect.

“We are all same in the eyes of God,” replied Jack. Phryne nodded, remembering how Jack had handed her the photograph frames of Charles and his lover.

“God must not have a telescope, then,” Phryne added, smiling flippantly as she jabbed at his rather pathetic attempt at a ‘romantic overture’ weeks before.

“Well then, let me improve on it,” Jack responded with a smile, as he brought her face closer to his, and kissed her soundly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Apologies for the late update, got caught up with work - but, please look out for another update in the next few days. Thank you again to everyone who has read/commented/subscribed -- you all make my day!


	6. Oak Trees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update -- I've been caught up with so much lately! I think this chapter may be the second to last of this lovely adventure, as I don't wish to drag along a plotless fic. I've tried to include both serious and humorous moments in this chapter -- I hope you enjoy!!

By the time the servants had started stirring in the early morning, Phryne had fallen asleep on Jack’s chest, breathing softly. The air was crisp and chilly, despite the sun. Figuring it was time to return Phryne to her bedroom, Jack carefully picked her up and made his way inside. The smell of eggs and toast wafted through the air.

It was an alarmingly domestic scene, Jack realized. Phryne was devoid of her usual perfume, and her soft breathing combined with the distant clamor of pots and pans reminded Jack of a foreign sense of home. For too many years, he had returned to his cold, cluttered home to find an empty cupboard and silence.

He bounded up the stairs with practiced ease, and hurried into Phryne’s bedroom. Jack had no intention of running into either of Phryne’s parents again. In his haste, he stubbed his toe on a chair and cursed under his breathe. Phryne’s head bobbed in his arms, but she did not wake.

Once inside Phryne’s _boudoir_ , Jack allowed himself a chance to catch his breath. He looked around, realizing that after so many months wondering how and when he would be invited to such an intimacy, _this_ was not how he had imagined it. In fact, a sleeping Phryne was far from any scenario in which he hoped to find himself. Jack chuckled, and walked over to the bed, pulling back the silk duvet.

Phryne sighed contentedly and curled onto her side, a small smile gracing her face. A strand of hair had fallen over her eyes. Jack reached out to tuck it behind her ear, but the strand flopped back onto her face. He tried again, to no avail. _Even her hair is infuriatingly stubborn_ , he thought affectionately.

Jack sat at the edge of the bed, wondering what to do next. Tired as he was, he did not feel like crawling into his own guest room by himself. Not after tonight. Not after such a long wait. He hesitated, before making up his mind. Jack pulled back the duvet covers, and slanted his body horizontally under the covers, careful not to wake Phryne. He was so close, he could feel their breaths intermingling in the small space between their lips. Feeling a sudden sense of serenity, Jack drifted off to sleep.

******

Phryne woke a few hours later, aware of a large, warm hand on her waist. For a second, she thought she was back in Wardlow after a night of heavy drinking, but remembered with a start that she was in England. She blinked quickly to adjust her eyes, and saw Jack lying next to her, hair tussled and mouth slightly open. He looked peaceful and at home.

In fact, he looked so natural in her bed, Phryne had to remind herself that this was not a regular occurrence. Only once before had she woken up next to Jack. However, she had left at the crack of dawn, feeling obligated to let him wake alone and in privacy. At the time, she had told herself it was to avoid scandalizing him, but deep down she knew it was because she couldn't bear the thought of seeing him leave, after so many months of wishing him to just _stay_. Frightened by the strength of her own feelings, she had fled the room to pick a fight with her father downstairs -- anything to keep her mind off of Jack.

This time however, Jack had come of his own accord and stayed. Phryne smiled brightly, remembering his bold declarations the night before, and snuggled closer to him. She rested her head on his broad shoulder, and fell back asleep.

******

When Jack woke again a few hours later, he found his arms full of a very content, very much asleep Phryne. He chuckled, seeing her sleep with such abandon, her legs sprawled in opposite directions and her hair covering her face once again.

As much as he wished to stay, he felt his stomach grumble loudly, and carefully extricated himself from her sleeping form. He tiptoed toward the door, and made his way toward the hallway in search of food...

...Only to run straight into the Baron. Jack sighed in resignation, raking a hand through his tousled hair. Henry Fisher looked curiously at Jack, and the slightly ajar door behind him.

“Good morning, Inspector,” the Baron said, his eyes still lingering on Phryne’s door.

“Ah – good morning, Baron,” Jack said, clearing his throat. His voice was gravelly with sleep.

There was a thick, tense silence as the two men stood facing each other in the hallway. The Baron was obviously going to make this difficult for him.

“I was just about to search for some food,” Jack continued, gesturing toward the stairs.

Henry Fisher arched an eyebrow but responded with a faux jovial voice. “Of course, Inspector. After you.”

In the kitchen, several maids were already bustling to put together several breakfast trays. It appeared that the Fisher family did not share meals together.

“Two cups of coffee, my dear,” the Baron asked a young maid nearby. She curtsied prettily and busied herself. The Baron turned back to Jack, in a slightly warmer voice. “Please, let us make ourselves comfortable in the parlor. I believe you are an avid reader? You must peruse our collection.” Jack groaned, wondering when he would ever be free from judgment or company. _No wonder Phryne feels so trapped here_ , Jack thought.

The Baron took a seat in an armchair near the unlit fireplace, and Jack took a seat on a longer settee. Despite knowing the Baron much better than he did the Baroness, Jack couldn’t help but feel even more anxious in the Baron’s presence. Just as the tense silence became nearly unbearable, Jane bounded down the stairs and into the parlor, obviously expecting everyone to be upstairs and asleep. She was wearing an ivory dressing gown, her hair still braided with curlers. She skidded to a halt and stared at the two men, before blushing deeply.

“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was awake,” Jane said with wide eyes. Jack expected her to leave abruptly, but was surprised when she cautiously walked toward the armchairs, and took a seat next to Jack. She looked squarely at the Baron, who looked at her bemusedly.

“So you’re my grandfather now,” Jane said bluntly to the Baron, who looked even more alarmed at the statement.

“I guess I am,” the Baron replied, with some hesitance. He eyed the young girl front of him appraisingly. “I see you have inherited the Fisher lack of subtlety as well.”

Jane caught the humor glinting in the Baron’s eyes and grinned. She turned to Jack.

“I was thinking Jack, we should all go on a picnic today! The entire family, and enjoy being back together.”

Jack smiled. “That sounds like a marvelous idea, I’m sure Mac would also appreciate being outdoors for a bit.” That was a gross understatement, as both Jack and Jane knew. Mac had spent the majority of her stay at the Ritz pacing around the bed, claiming her blood circulation was unaccustomed to the frivolous living habits of London aristocrats.

Jane scooted closer to Jack and turned her attention back to the Baron. She seemed entirely unconcerned about her appearance, and inspected the older man sitting in front of her with a tilt of her head.

“What do you like to do on weekends?” Jane asked the Baron, who was regarding her with equal curiosity.

In an unexpected burst of laughter, the Baron responded, “Well, whatever I please, my dear!”

“That’s what Miss Phryne says about her days, too,” responded Jane with a grin. The Baron chuckled. “And what about you, my dear.”

“I read a lot; sometimes I help Dot run errands,” Jane responded. “But usually, I read. Miss Phryne has the most wonderful collection.”

“Surely Phryne’s books aren’t of interest to a young lady like yourself,” the Baron asked incredulously. He had obviously perused her shelves during his short stay at the Wardlow.

Jane threw a slightly annoyed look at the Baron, his social status seemingly have no impact on her behavior. “She has many books on anatomy, and I want to attend university and become a doctor like Mac.”

The Baron looked like he was going to say something, but settled for a simple, “Ah, I see.”

Jane seemed to have no more questions for the Baron and turned to Jack again, who was smiling in amusement at Jane’s brazenness. “Jack, do you think I could keep your book on criminology for another week? I haven’t had a chance to read it properly.”

Jack smiled, and nodded. “You can have any book you like for however long you wish, Jane. So long as you promise not to toss me aside when you’ve devoured everything in my humble library.”

“I would never!” Jane said in horror, before noting the teasing smile gracing Jack’s face. She relaxed again.

The maid came back with a tray of coffee and a plate of toast. Jane bounded up from the settee and grabbed a piece of toast, munching on it with abandon. The Baron looked at her with a trace of disapproval, but did not comment on the crumbs decorating the front of Jane’s nightgown. He poured three cups of coffee, and gestured toward them.

“Please, help yourself. I’m sure Margaret will be down soon as well.” The Baron said, picking up his own cup. Jane had finished her toast and reached for another. She munched on the second piece thoughtfully.

“Jack, are you and Miss Phryne going to get married now?” Jane asked, in between chews.

Jack saw the Baron hide a smile behind his cup, and look very interestedly at the morning’s paper.

“I don’t think so, Jane.” Jack responded in a choked voice, unwilling to discuss the topic further in front of Phryne’s father. _Or anyone, for the matter_ , he thought.

“Is it because she isn’t the marrying sort?” Jane pushed on. Both Jack and the Baron looked at her. Jane blushed, before continuing hurriedly, “Sorry, I overheard Aunt P in the parlor a few months ago.”

“Ah, good old Prudence,” the Baron said with a grimace. “Always an expert on the romance of others.” He sounded bitter.

“Er – not quite,” Jack responded, glancing at the Baron in surprise, then back at Jane.

“Well then, what’s keeping you! Do you not love her?” Jane asked. Jack threw her a warning look, but the Baron came to his rescue.

“I rather think that’s an improper question, Jane,” the Baron admonished. “You are far too young to assume knowledge of marriage, love, or otherwise.”

This was clearly the wrong thing to say. Jane crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the Baron stubbornly. Her lower lip trembled in indignation.

“I’m nearly of age, _grandfather_ ,” Jane replied through her teeth. “And I think anything that is a concern to Miss Fisher is a great concern of mine, especially when it has to do with her happiness.” She looked at Jack. “Besides, Jack is one of my best friends.”

Jack was touched by the young girl’s loyalty. “That I am,” he responded kindly. “However, I don’t believe Phryne would appreciate being spoken about behind her back. Besides, it would take a very brave man to propose to her, and I don’t know if even I am _quite_ that brave.”

“But I do believe you can be very, _very_ foolish, Inspector,” said a voice from the door. Jack’s heart stuttered, horrified at the sight of Phryne leaning against the door jamb.

“Phryne! We were just—I mean, I was just – I mean to say, we were –“ Jack cursed under his breath, unable to come up with an adequate recovery.

“I think our dear Inspector means to offer you a cup of coffee, my dear,” the Baron interrupted dryly. Phryne smiled and pushed off the wall, sashaying to the settee. She plopped down next to Jane, and grabbed a piece of toast, ignoring the stack of plates nearby. She propped her feet up on the coffee table, her silk slippers nudging the pot of coffee sideways.

“Phryne!” The Baron said in indignation. “Some of us would like to consume that!”

“Oh shush, father, it’s not like I stepped on it,” Phryne responded airily, waving her piece of toast around. Jane giggled. Jack looked as if he could wish nothing more than to sink into the settee cover and disappear. He had inched over to the farthest corner from Phryne, and looked nervously around the room, as if fascinated by the wallpaper.

“I was just asking Jack if he was going to ask you to marry him,” Jane mentioned casually to Phryne. Jack paled and sunk lower into his seat.

“Were you now?” Phryne asked curiously, her bowed lips curling into a smirk as she observed Jack’s horror. “He seems to really delight at the prospect.”

“I –“ Jack threw his hands up in surrender, realizing he was being teased by a rather merciless duo. He snatched Jane’s toast from her hands and munched on it, ignoring her indignant cries. Phryne threw back her head and laughed, her own piece of toast having been neglected on her lap. Jane looked doe-eyed at Jack.

“Please, may I have my toast back, Inspector Robinson? I’m hungry and poor, and a mean old curmudgeon just stole my last bite!” Jack threw a glare at the young girl, but instead of returning her toast, finished it off with a dramatic wipe of his mouth.

“Better luck next time,” Jack said, with a grin.

The Baron cleared his throat loudly. All three occupants of the settee looked up, suddenly reminded that they were not alone.

“Well, I’ll go see if Margaret wants breakfast brought upstairs, shall I?” Without waiting for a response, the Baron stood up and left the parlor. Phryne turned to Jane.

“How is it that you’ve learned how to get rid of him after just a few minutes, when I’ve spent my entire life trying to figure out how to drive him away?” Phryne grabbed another piece of toast and bit into it loudly.

“I think you’ve been trying too hard. It backfired on you,” Jane responded sagely. Jack sipped his coffee, and smiled fondly.

“I rather think Jane’s right,” he responded. Phryne _hrumphed_ loudly.

“Oh! I was also telling Jack that we should all go on a picnic today – with grandma and grandpa and Mac as well!” Jane said excitedly, tugging on Phryne’s nightgown.

 _Grandma and grandpa?_ Phryne mouthed silently at Jack, in horror. Jack nodded with a grin. Phryne rolled her eyes.

“That sounds like a lovely plan, Jane,” Phryne responded. “Why don’t you go ask the maids to put together a basket?” Jane nodded eagerly and skipped toward the kitchen.

Jack felt his heart sink, as Phryne turned her gaze toward him. She looked like a cat eyeing a trapped mouse.

“I’m sorry –“ Jack started, with every intention of apologizing for any comments of marriage or proposals that might scare her away.

“Oh shush, Jack. I’m not that much of a flight risk,” Phryne tutted. “Jane is a naturally curious young woman. She’s guaranteed to ask a few questions out of line.”

“Are they, though?” Jack asked, quietly. “Out of line, I mean.”

Phryne opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Jack hurried on.

“Not that I’m implying anything, Phryne. I told you last night, I love you, and am willing to commit to you without a guarantee of anything more. But you must understand, when we return to Australia…people will ask questions, people will talk…”

Phryne expected to feel a bubble of anger to rise up in her and consume her. She expected to feel a lump in throat, and to hear herself say that she “cared for him truly” but that it was not in her nature to commit.

But she did not.

“I know,” Phryne eventually responded. “I didn’t know you cared about what others said.”

“I don’t!” Jack said hastily. “I merely meant, Jane wasn’t asking anything untoward; and while I am overjoyed at being with you, in any capacity, others will not be as understanding. I was just wondering what you wished me to tell people should they ask.”

“Whatever you please, Jack. It is as much your _relationship_ as it is mine,” Phryne said, rolling the word around in her mouth. It tasted foreign, but not entirely repulsive.

“People will assume we are engaged,” Jack pushed on. “Will you be ok with that?”

Phryne laughed. “Oh Jack, to be honest, I would much rather it be you than any other man.”

Jack felt a sense of relief wash over him, as he pulled Phryne closer to him. He kissed her deeply, forgetting where he was and in whose house.

“Ahem!” Jane cleared her throat loudly at the door. Phryne smiled into her kiss, not turning around. Jack looked over Phryne’s shoulder and grinned apologetically at the young girl.

“The picnic basket is ready when you two are finished,” Jane said haughtily, turning toward the stairs, her braids flying behind her.

Phryne buried her head into Jack’s shoulder and giggled. Jack put his arms around her, and chuckled as well.

“It seems we have our marching orders from Private Jane Ross,” Jack said, with a smile.

“Well, no use in keeping her waiting then. I’ll go wake Mac, and we shall reconvene in an hour?” Phryne asked, draping her arms around Jack’s neck and looking up at him affectionately.

“Yes, ma'am!” Jack said, gesturing in mock salute. He kissed her again before making to stand up.

“Ah, not quite yet, Inspector. I think Special Constable Phryne Fisher requires your attention for a bit first.”

“If I’m not mistaken, Special Constable Fisher is no longer in active service,” Jack responded with curiosity.

“Oh I’m sure we’ll find ways to make her active again, if you catch my drift,” Phryne said with a wink. Jack grinned, pulling her closer to him.

*****

Two hours later, Jack and Phryne found themselves seated on a large checkered picnic blanket, watching Mac and Jane race each other around the lake. The Baron and Baroness Fisher were strolling by a large oak, arms linked.

“They’re rather sweet together, aren’t they,” Phryne said, looking toward her parents.

Jack reached for another strawberry and held it up to Phryne’s lips, before responding. “They are in love, that much is obvious.”

“Yes, I rather say they are.” Phryne reached for her champagne glass and drained the last cool drops. The weather had warmed considerably since the night of the ball, and the breeze rustled pleasantly through the leaves.

“Who was your first love?” Phryne asked suddenly.

“Ah, my first love,” Jack said with dramatic flair. “She was a beautiful girl of sixteen, who worked at my mother’s factory. She was apprenticing to become a seamstress at a local shop, and would often help my mother drop things off at the house after shifts.”

“What was her name?” Phryne asked with a smile.

“Maureen,” Jack responded. “But I was fifteen at the time, and called her Reenie. We would often sit as we are now on a picnic blanket, and read under the large oak tree in my yard.”

“How wonderfully innocent,” Phryne teased, pouring herself more champagne.

“Well, now that you mention it, I’m rather pleased to say we weren’t,” Jack retorted, as Phryne let out a peal of laughter.

“Oh do tell, Inspector. Were there stolen kisses involved under said oak tree?”

“Perhaps, but a gentleman never kisses and tells,” said Jack with a grin. “But, if you must know, Reenie and I once tried to sneak into a cake shop after hours, but were caught red-handed.”

“Detective Inspector! You hypocrite! Breaking and entering at a tender age of fifteen,” Phryne clapped her hands in delight. Jack grinned sheepishly.

“Well, yes, but in our defense, we were trying to feed an injured bird that had fallen out of the oak tree.”

“Excuses, excuses,” tutted Phryne. She flopped down on the picnic table and rested her head on Jack’s lap, her face turned up toward his.

“I’m sure your younger self wasn’t exactly curled up with a book either, Miss Fisher.” Jack added, “Even you might not have dared to read D.H. Lawrence at such an early age.”

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t have access to many books when I was younger. Collingwood had much more pressing concerns than literary pursuits." Phryne reached up and placed a hand on Jack’s cheek, before reaching for another strawberry. “I used to think that life was supposed to be as tumultuous as Mr. Lawrence described it to be – that anything less wasn’t truly living. I wanted to drown in pleasure, to feel enflamed with passion, and to live without repent. I wanted to feel free and glorious, and leave everything that had held me back in Collingwood behind.”

Phryne became quiet before continuing, “But then, I started to feel alone, especially after Janey. I would wait for something new to happen, and find temporary respite while drowning myself in the newest hobby or fling. But every time I walked away, I felt alone and small.”

“Sometimes, it takes the bad to realize the good,” Jack commented, running his fingers through Phryne’s hair. “’ _What the eye doesn’t see and the mind doesn’t know, doesn’t exist_ ,’” he quoted.

Phryne smiled. “Yes, but I was always waiting – waiting for something new. Waiting for something different, something grander to come my way. And the longer I waited, the more blind I became.”

“But you were blessed with many who love you,” Jack reminded her, looking up toward Mac and Jane, who were wading knee-deep in the lake.

“Yes, I know,” Phryne responded. “I am very lucky. But as a child, I think I would’ve felt particularly attracted to Mr. Lawrence’s world. I think I truly did believe that there was _no age more devoid of real feeling, more exaggerated in false feeling, than our own_.”

“Then I’m glad you no longer have to feel that way,” Jack responded, squeezing Phryne’s hand.

“Yes, I am too,” Phryne said. “And when I don’t, I’m sure I can find refuge in one of Mr. B’s splendid cocktails. After all, Mr. Lawrence did say that cocktails and sex took the same amount of time to produce the same sensations.” Phryne winked.

“In that case, you must drink an awful many cocktails,” Jack responded cheekily. Phryne laughed so hard, she had to clutch her stomach while gasping for breath.

“You, my dear Inspector, are getting a tad self-confident,” Phryne eventually managed.

“No man is happy without a delusion of some kind,” Jack said airily. “I gather a man in love is even more so.”

“I wonder then, if it’s the same for a woman in love?” Phryne asked carefully, peering up at Jack.

Before Jack could respond, Jane came running over to the couple, water dripping from the fringe of her dress.

“Jack! Mac and I found a rare lizard in the river, and could use your expert opinion. Come! Hurry!” She ran back toward the lake, not waiting for Jack to follow.

Jack gave Phryne an apologetic look, and stood up, holding his hand out for her to take. “We are called back to duty, Special Constable.” 

Phryne slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and responded in a deep, faux-masculine voice, “Sir, yes sir!”


	7. Romantic Overture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This is it, the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who has followed me on this incredible journey, and for sticking with me through it all. I hope you all enjoy. :)
> 
> This chapter starts after the conviction of Eugene Fisher, who has been hung for murder.

Jack knocked quietly on Phryne’s open door and stepped in, mindful to make just enough noise to alert her of his presence. He shuffled over to the bed, where she sat curled up under a bright orange and pink feather boa. Her knees were pulled up toward her chin, her arms cradling her legs. Phryne’s eyes flickered upward when Jack perched at the end of her bed, but she did not acknowledge his presence in any other way. The mattress sank slightly under his weight.

“You didn’t make it to dinner,” Jack said, trying to keep his tone light.

“Wasn’t in the mood to celebrate,” Phryne responded curtly. She pulled the feather boa closer to her.  Jack sighed.

“Phryne, please look at me.”  Phryne did not raise her gaze, but continued to stare resolutely at her feather boa.

“Phryne,” Jack repeated, his eyebrows furrowing. Phryne shifted imperceptibly, and looked at Jack from under her lashes.

Jack reached out and calmed Phryne’s fidgeting hands. He paused, thinking how best to phrase his words.

“Phryne, Eugene Fisher was a murderer. As much as you may have believed he was wronged, he had a choice – and he chose the path of a criminal. You may feel guilty for the hardship he encountered in his life; you may feel indignation at how your family acquired its title; but you should never feel guilty about a man being punished for his crimes.”

Phryne opened her mouth as if to interject, but Jack cut in. “He had a _choice_ , Phryne. It may not have been a very good one, and he was no doubt likely to suffer more than anyone hopes to in a lifetime. Yet he did not _have_ to murder innocent lives to retrieve his money or title. He did not _have_ to resort to blackmail and threats. He _chose_ his path, Phryne, and he has paid the price for it.”

“I know, Jack,” Phryne responded, her voice barely audible. “I know this, in my mind. But I can’t help but feel that had my father been more yielding; had he just been honest about everything once he realized that Eugene had survived the war, that none of this would have happened.”

“Perhaps, but that can be said of any criminal, if you search back far enough into his past,” Jack replied.

“That means nothing to me, other than the fact that humanity and providence pushes some people onto a path that makes them more likely to lead a life of crime. Whether it is out of desperation, or out of evil, it is others that drive them down that path,” Phryne responded, shaking her head.

“’Hell is empty. And all the devils are here,’” Jack quoted softly, with a wry smile.

“’C’est ca l’enfer – Hell, it is others! *” Phryne quipped back. She fell back into a sullen silence.

She continued after a minute’s silence.  “I know that Eugene couldn’t have been _saved –_ at least, not in a spiritual sense. But a part of me wonders if there wasn’t more that could’ve been done to prevent all this suffering.”

Jack nodded, understandingly. “It does seem rather futile.”

Phryne leaned into Jack’s shoulder and mumbled, “I’m sorry, I’m being silly.”

“No, you’re not,” Jack responded consolingly. “Besides, a wise woman once told me: ‘the law is an ass!’”

Phryne laughed breathily. “At least we can go back to Australia now. Hugh and Dot should be nicely settled in, and I miss Mr. B dearly.”  

Jack nodded, but did not say anything, his heart sinking slightly. If he were to be completely honest with himself, Jack had dreaded their return to Australia for some time. He had reveled in the domestic bubble that had enveloped him and the Fisher household, each day progressing toward a familial bliss he had only dreamed of toward the end of his marriage with Rosie. In the depth of the English countryside, no one could nose his way into their happiness; no one to taint their relationship.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared, Jack,” Phryne teased, startling Jack out of his thoughts.

“Well, Collins’ tea is definitely not something I look forward to again,” Jack responded with a smile.

“Nothing has to change, you know,” Phryne continued, ignoring Jack’s previous response.

Jack made a small noise of disbelief. “You have a thriving social life to attend to upon your return, Phryne. And I – well, I have a police station full of gossiping constables who would make a group of young schoolgirls ashamed.”

“Then you shall simply have to join me in my ‘thriving social life,’ and we shall simply give them more to gossip about,” Phryne responded, as if Jack had presented the most obvious problem in the world to her.

“People will talk Phryne. It is common knowledge that I have been divorced, and it doesn’t help that I am nowhere near socially compatible with you,” Jack rebutted. “I know you say you don’t care, but I’m terrified it will somehow taint what we have – and hurt Jane as well. I would never do anything to hurt her, inadvertently or otherwise.”

“Well, as you know plenty well, Jane is a strong young woman who is perfectly capable of taking care of herself, nonetheless warding off silly gossip. As for the rest of society, they can all go to hell for all I care!” Phryne said, sticking her chin out stubbornly.

“As long as you think that, I have an important question to ask,” Jack said, clearing his throat dramatically. “Miss Fisher, would you do me the pleasure of accompanying me to the Policemen and Firemen’s Ball?”

Phryne grinned broadly, laughing as she responded. “It would be my absolute pleasure, Inspector Robinson.”

“Well, now that the nerve-wracking moment is over,” Jack said with a grin, “Why don’t we go find Jane and take a stroll before the sun becomes unbearable.”

Phryne nodded, standing up abruptly and striding over to the closet, where she pulled out a few garments and tossed them unconcernedly over her shoulder. After a sizable heap of clothes lay on the ground, she triumphantly held out a bright red overcoat and pulled it on over her long sleeve pajamas.

“Well, what are you waiting for!” She said, as she dragged Jack up from the bed. “Janeeee!” She hollered at the top of her lungs, “Jannnnneee!”

Jack plugged his ears and smiled at Phryne, grimacing slightly. She did not seem to notice. “Janeeee! Jack tells me there is a rare species of birds loitering in our oak. Hurry on down!”

Jack heard a set of footsteps pounding down the stairs rapidly, and grinned. _Like mother, like daughter_ , he thought fondly, as he followed Phryne out the door.

*****

“So, when are you going to ask her?” Mac asked quietly, as she leaned over toward an ashtray.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Jack responded, trying to appear aloofly curious, rather than the panicked state he was in.

“Don’t be a fool, Jack, I saw the ring,” she whispered back, as she lit her cigarette.

“You—what?” Jack said in disbelief, forgetting to continue his pretense of reading the paper.

“You heard me,” Mac said, her mouth barely moving around the cigarette still placed inside it.

“I – when?” Jack stammered, trying valiantly to compose himself.

“At the Ritz, when I was trying to take a walk at night. I grabbed your coat instead of mine in the darkness, and felt it while looking for my lighter,” Mac said, looking at Jack appraisingly through the cigarette smoke.

“I’m – it’s not what you think,” Jack said pathetically.

“Then what should I think?” Mac persisted. She looked incredibly calm for a woman who had disparaged matrimony in a drunken tirade just weeks before.

“It was my grandmother’s ring,” Jack said, his eyes furtively darting around the sitting room to make sure no one else could overhear their conversation. “I brought it with me to London as a sort of – good luck charm. It wasn’t intended to be for Phryne.”

“So you’re never going to ask her?” Mac sounded surprised. Jack looked at her curiously.

“You said so yourself, she’s not exactly hurrying to be shackled to the holy bonds of matrimony,” Jack said sarcastically. “And neither am I for the matter. I just got out of one marriage, I’m sure as hell not rushing into another.”

“That makes sense...” Mac trailed off, but her brows were furrowed as she inhaled another breath of smoke.

“But…?” Jack finished for her.

“Well, it’s just not really _you_ , is it? I always pegged you to be a relatively liberal man when it comes to the lives of others, but conservative in your own personal life and values.” Mac said.

Jack thought for a moment. “Yes, I guess you are right, though I must be woefully transparent for you to have pegged me as a certain type of person so quickly.”

Mac snorted. “I’m a doctor, Jack. I see a million types of characters on a daily basis, you pick up certain things.”

Jack sighed dramatically. “Some day, I will acquire friends who do not appear to know me better than myself.”

Mac grinned. “Welcome to the family, Jack.” She paused, then asked again. “So you’re _really_ not going to ask her?”

Jack gave her a sharp look. “Do you _want_ me to? How do you think that would go? I’d rather ship myself to Siberia than force something on Phryne she has no desire for.”

“Well you don’t _know_ that, Jack. It’s just as selfish to push something on her she doesn’t want, as it is to presume you know what she does or doesn’t want,” Mac retorted.

“Yes, but I’m not sure if we are anywhere near a stage where I could broach the topic without wrecking irrevocable damage,” responded Jack.

Mac cocked her head to the side and commented, “I guess you may be right. But I do know that underneath all that glitter and glam, Phryne is a woman of loyalty. Marriage may be a different story, but if you’re so afraid of gossip and turning heads back in Melbourne, you may consider giving her the ring as a symbolic gesture.”

Jack stared at her. “How did you know –?”

Mac smiled enigmatically. “I told you, I know people Jack. Even if they’re utter idiots.” She stood up and snatched the paper from Jack’s lap, and walked over to the other side of the parlor to speak to Jane.

*****

Phryne peaked into the kitchen from the balcony. For the past two days, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of _foreboding._ It seemed like everywhere she turned, there was something she couldn’t quite put her finger on – but it bothered her. So, like the true detective that she was, Phryne decided to investigate.

She crept into the kitchen, noting that all the maids seemed to have mysteriously disappeared mid-day. Around now, they would usually be bustling around preparing for afternoon tea. The table was coated with flour, uncleaned after baking, as if the maids had left in a hurry. Phryne frowned.

Next, she inspected the parlor, which was also unusually empty. With a full house, it seemed extremely unlikely that everyone had cooped themselves up in their rooms. Now she definitely knew something was up.

 _Well, that only leaves the grounds,_ she thought. Huffing in frustration, Phryne made her way to the front door. _Perhaps everyone is enjoying the last few days of autumn here_.

When she opened the door, Phryne was momentarily blinded by the bright sun shining directly into her eyes. She blinked several times to adjust to the light, when her ears were assaulted by loud cheers and whooping sounds. She blinked again.

In the yard were her parents, Jack, Jane, and Mac – alongside a few neighbors and Gustav, who stood smiling broadly as Phryne looked around in surprise.

“What’s going on?” She asked, noting the makeshift banner that read “Phryne Fisher” in the most abhorrent pink and gold glitter. She cringed, and met Jane’s cheeky gaze.

“I thought you’d appreciate the décor,” Jane called out, grinning. Phryne shook her head in amusement. She looked around, and saw several tables being laid out with elaborate pastries, tea, coffee, and finger sandwiches. _So that’s where all the maids had gone,_ Phryne thought.

She met Jack’s gaze. “Jack? What’s going on here.” Jack had dressed in an outfit similar to what he had worn to her tennis tournament, with beige slacks and a knit sweater vest pulled over a white collared shirt open at the neck. His arm was around Jane’s shoulders.

“We thought we could all have some fun in lieu of a farewell party,” Jack responded. “Since we are to leave for Australia and all.”

The Baron and Baroness Fisher stood on the other side of Jack, smiling at Phryne. She met their gaze, and felt the ball of tension that had coiled at the news of Eugene Fisher’s execution unravel. She smiled hesitantly before walking forward to Mac, who was eyeing a sumptuous cake.

“Well then, what are we waiting for! Where’s the champagne?” Phryne called out, smiling broadly. The group laughed, and broke apart, each member of the party dispersing to see what was on the menu. Phryne turned toward Mac.

“Who’s idea was all this?” Phryne asked, knowing the answer before she asked.

“Who do you think,” Mac responded. “Jack and Jane are a dangerous duo—you’re going to have your hands full.”

Phryne smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She saw Gustav approach her from the corner of her eye, and gave Mac a meaningful look before walking toward her ex-fiance.

“I see you have been well,” Gustav commented, kissing her on the cheek.

“Yes, as have you, it seems,” Phryne teased. “Interfering in my personal life was definitely not an aspect of our friendship I expected.”

“Well, I do what I can,” Gustav responded, his shoulders shrugging in mock consternation. He glanced over to Jack and Jane, who were debating something about criminology, to which the Baron interjected with gusto. “You have quite the family,” he said softly, his eyes meeting Phryne’s.

“I do,” she said, as the Baroness walked over to engage Mac in a discussion about the Lady’s Automobile Society in Australia. “I never knew I would be so…domestically inclined,” she said, her face twisting into a mock grimace.

Gustav laughed heartily. “Well, it appears you are happy, and that is all I wished to see before you left. I hope you didn’t find it presumptuous of me to drop by. Jack sent me an invitation and I was in the area.”

Phryne knew perfectly well that Gustav had no acquaintances in the area, but did not comment. “I’m glad we can be friends, Gustav,” she said sincerely. “I know it’s been –well, a trying friendship, you and I. But I think we have both emerged quite well from it all.” Gustav smiled and nodded in agreement.

“Well, Jack has challenged me to a game of tennis, and I refuse to lose to a copper,” Gustav said with a wink. Phryne’s mouth dropped in an “o” and stared in disbelief as Jack walked over to them, rackets in hand.

Jack smirked before handing Gustav a racket, and walked toward the court calling over his shoulder. “It isn’t love all for Miss Fisher, but a healthy game of tennis can’t hurt.”

Phryne gaped at the pair’s retreating form.

“They’re a strange friendship, aren’t they,” Jane commented. She had sidled up to Phryne’s side during the exchange.

Before Phryne could answer, Jane continued, “Jack and I wanted to give you this. As a sign of gratitude for bringing us all together. And as a reminder that we are all family, and love you dearly.” She handed Phryne a small ring box.

Phryne opened it silently, her heart thrumming in her chest. An elegant silver ring with a small diamond, inlaid between two smaller emeralds shone from the velvet case. Phryne took it out of the box, and looked at the court, where Jack was smiling at her.

“Jack also wanted me to tell you that this isn’t an engagement ring so to ‘hold your horses,’” Jane said, taking a bite out of her cupcake. “It’s symbolic of our makeshift family, and nothing more.”

Phryne blinked back tears as she put on the ring. “It’s beautiful,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “Thank you, Jane,” she said, reaching out to give Jane a hug. Jane nodded, then flounced back to the pastry table where she joined Phryne’s parents and Mac.

Phryne looked around her and gazed at the happy scene in front of her. Gustav and Jack were heartily exchanging verbal jabs, as they played tennis. The Baron and Mac were engaged in a heated discussion about female drivers, while the Baroness was adjusting Jane’s braids. Phryne looked down at the ring, and smiled, before taking a deep breath.

 _Well, Jack Robinson, looks like you're stuck with me,_  she thought, as she strode over to her family.  _Romantic overture, indeed._

 _We'll meet again,_  
_Don't know where, don't know when,_  
_But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I have taken some liberties and anachronistically included Sartre.


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